


bury your head into my chest my darling

by justlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffiest thing I've ever written, M/M, This is cute, idk what to even say, teeny weeny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlarry/pseuds/justlarry





	bury your head into my chest my darling

I wake up clutching for you on the other side of this empty bed. I sigh as I remember the events of the weekend, remember, the words that came from my mouth that I didn't mean, the words from yours that broke me. Your last I love you. I cried that night, cried so much that when I woke up and Liam came to take me to recording he didn't even say anything, he just sat beside me and listened to me talk about how in love with you I am.   
I bet you thought I didn't notice, you took my sweater, the one you always loved. I don't blame you, if I had the chance I would have taken yours as well. I hope you keep it close to you, so something of mine gets to be, even if it's not me.  
I talked to Lottie today, I saw her in the street and we sat talking about you and me for a while. She told me that you had in fact been sleeping with my sweater, and refusing to leave the house without it, making the excuse that it was your only way to be close to me.  
I called your phone today, but, as I expected, you didn't answer. I left a voicemail, just to let you know that now you're gone, I have only half a life.  
Liam saw you yesterday, or so he says. At the seafront, your ipod on, playing our song. He says he sat beside you in silence for while and let you cry on his shoulder, just like he did with me. He says you and me are the same. We're not like the others. We're half hearts, broken in such a particular way that no other half heart can fit. That's how I see it at least.   
I called you again today, I got your voicemail, and left a message like before. I miss you a lot, I just wish you could come home, just lay in my arms and let me pepper you with kisses, let me fall even further and let yourself fall again for me. But you didn't reply, so I don't know what you feel about our situation, maybe you're over me, maybe my half heart theory is completely wrong, but I hope it's not.  
So when I called you again today, expecting to leave another voicemail, and I heard your voice, I realised even more how much I had missed it. I barely let you get a word in did I? But the main point was that you agreed to meet me at the seafront again, like our first date, and give me an hour to convince you to come back.  
I arrived at the seafront early, I sat down staring at the waves, waiting for your footsteps in the sand to grace my ears. But you didn't come. I really thought you would give me a chance to talk about it, just an hour, that was all I really wanted. So I stayed there, I couldn't find the energy to walk back home.  
I came home from the seafront today. All the three boys were in my kitchen and told me how worried they had been, asking why I hadn't replied to their endless calls and texts. But what they told me that mattered was about you. They told me I needed to see you, I needed to talk to you, not for my own sake, but for yours. They confused me, I couldn't take in all the information, but I grasped the basics. You weren't well.   
I went to the hospital today. The boys told me to prepare myself because you really weren't well, but you looked so different. They gave us our own time, but you weren't really there. Your eyes were lifeless, dull. They had lost that green tint I had convinced myself came from me. Your smile had been wiped away, replaced with a frown. You didn't even realise I was in the room.   
I went to the hospital again, I went to see you. I had to see you again. The boys told me it was a bad idea, but I had to. When I got to your room, it was no longer yours. I asked the reception, but it was restricted information, and they told me nothing. So I sat outside the hospital. I watched the sun set and the moon rise, I watched the lights of the night slowly fade to black, and I stayed on that hospital bench, just waiting for something.  
When I went back in the next morning, the nurse must have seen the state of my hair, and felt sympathetic, because she gave me your room number. I stood outside the room for a while, I waited for something to happen. When I finally pushed open the door, expecting you to look up at me and smile, something I had been missing for so long. Instead I was met with your pale, motionless body. So I sat beside you again and I grasped your hand tightly in mine. I talked to you about these little entries I had made about you. I told you my theory about our half hearts. I told you everything I hadn't been able to for the past 2 weeks.   
The doctor saw me for the first time two days later. I visited you every day and when he saw me, he told me that you couldn't hear me, or feel me, and that you didn't have long left. He told me all these things I didn't want to know. He told me you were dying. You're dying.  
I miss you every day. I still sit by your side every day. The boys say it's not good for me, but neither is doing nothing at home, so I ignore them. I watch as your chest rises so slowly and sinks down again. I read you the football scores, you'd never have wanted to miss Gerrard's red card. I told you everything I could before I was escorted out by the boys. They forbade me to see you.   
I saw you anyway. I didn't say anything today, I just held your cold hand closer to my body.   
Today you moved. I was holding your hand tightly, I was crying and your hand gripped back. Your breathing quickened and you let out a sigh. I talked to you. I told you how much I missed you, how much you meant to me and how much I love you. I'll never stop loving you.  
The boys have given up on me now. They don't try and stop me coming here, they know I'll find a way to see you. Needless to say, the band has been on hold for nearly a month.   
The doctor said something good today, he said you had a chance. They still don't know what's wrong with you, but they think they can treat it with an array of drugs. So that's good.  
You moved again today. The doctor said it was a sign the drugs were working, a sign you might get better.  
The boys saw it too, all five of us in your hospital room. You would have hated to have seen the state of us. You hated people making a fuss over you.   
Today you said something. It was like listening to a baby saying their first word, the relief it gives. Do you know what you said? You said Harry. You said my name. The doctor witnessed it and just smiled and said the drugs were definitely working.   
I saw your eyes again today. They had been closed for so long, I missed their colour. You didn't talk though, but you looked me straight in the eye and blinked, as if you wanted to tell me something important, but had no means to do so.  
You're in recovery now, I'm not allowed to see you. They need to work on your memory, because the drugs seem to have affected it. I just want to see you, I want to hug you, kiss you, tell you it will all be alright.   
You've been in recovery for a week. I've been sitting at home for the entire day staring at the pictures of us, the times before the complications, before the hardships of fame.   
You can come home tomorrow. They say you can walk and talk just like any normal person. But they told me that you don't remember who I am. You have to remember me. I'm your boyfriend, I'm your half heart. You have to remember me.  
I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting for you to come outside. Then I saw you. You were wearing the same clothes you came in with and they all hung off your thin body. Your eyes met mine, and the life was back. The green tint, my green tint was back. Before I got to touch you or talk to you, the doctors told me I couldn't be too forward and I had to treat you like a delicate flower. I'll always treat you as a delicate flower, I always have, you know that. You stepped out of the doors, standing 3 metres away from me. You stared at me. Stared as if you were trying to remember something, something important. Me. Then as I watched closer, I could see the pieces being joined together in your brain.   
Then you outstretched your arms and engulfed me. You buried your head into my neck and whispered, "Harry."


End file.
